


Awkward

by hannahrhen



Series: Good, Giving, Game [3]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: 30 Day OTP Porn Challenge, Awkward Sexual Situations, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Sexual Humor, Situational Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-02
Updated: 2013-05-02
Packaged: 2017-12-10 04:44:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/781913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannahrhen/pseuds/hannahrhen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Flat on his back, fingers deep in his own ass, Tony is sure he's figured out Loki's play: humiliate Iron Man to the fullest extent of his power.</p><p>(Expanding day two in the "Good, Giving, Game" 'verse: "awkward sex")</p>
            </blockquote>





	Awkward

**Author's Note:**

> Slots into the beginning of the [GGG](http://archiveofourown.org/works/770952) 'verse. Reading that one first will probably help!

On day two, Tony was pretty sure he knew Loki’s play.

Okay, he’d kinda guessed it from the very first moment after “kink list” crossed those lips. Day two just confirmed it.

He was--again--staring at the plaster’s uninspiring patterns in the ceiling. In the first few hours after Loki jerked him out of his workshop, it became apparent that the bastard _probably_ wasn’t going to kill him ... but Tony had had several long days to lie on his back in this dungeon-room. To reflect on Loki’s real objective here, which appeared to be about ...

... _humiliating Iron Man to the fullest extent of his power._

He was probably recording the shit out of these encounters, all the better to make Iron Man pay at the most cringeworthy moment in the future. One in which Steve Rogers’ three-D face featured prominently. Tony tamped down an instant image of “Iron Man’s Sexploitation Reel” projected into the skies over Central Park.

After all, a desire to shame was the only thing that could explain this current scenario:

Tony, flat on his back, pressed into a pillow at the headboard, knees ... yeah, God, knees pulled up and out, per Loki’s specific instruction. One shaking thigh supported by his free hand. Completely exposed. Insides fluttering around, spasming, still trying to resist the finger pressed into his--

Loki glanced up just long enough to direct, almost as an afterthought: “Another one now, Stark.”

Okay, now, _fingers_ coaxing his own asshole open for Loki’s cock, he thought, grimacing, as he resignedly pressed the too-fat tip of his middle finger in next to the straining index. Getting himself ready for a repeat of yesterday’s alien invasion, he observed with a desperate kind of humor, while Loki, just an arm’s reach away and still fully dressed, projected a flawless air of boredom and distraction.

 _Awkward sex_ accomplished. _Check._

 _Not going as planned?_ Yeah, depended on whose plans were being considered. Tony would really, really rather be doing almost anything other than this, he mused, as he tentatively spread his fingers the way Loki had done with too much speed and too little care the day before.

He whimpered. Humiliation? _Well underway._

His cock, for the record, agreed. It had packed up at the end of Loki’s blunt instructions and retreated to a distant, white-sand beach accompanied by Amy Poehler and one of those netting-covered beds.

( _What?_ he had defended when Bruce had teased him genially about the Poehler crush. He liked funny and smart. _What the fuck ever._ )

Tony was feeling like beach Amy Poehler and the netting bed was pretty much the opposite of the current situation, and he sighed. Turned his attention back to the too-goddamned-smart-and-thinks-he’s-so-fucking-funny manwhore--godwhore--sitting next to him.

The one who apparently had zero interest in the workings of Tony’s fingers or the disposition of his cock. Which Tony had been commanded not to touch, anyway.

This fucking sucked.

Loki had moved the room’s single chair to the side of the bed where Tony lay, finger-- _fingers,_ damn it--sliding in and out of his own hole, trying to convince the muscle to do the opposite of what he’d been teaching it to do almost since birth. Sweat collected on Tony’s forehead, on the back of his neck. Loki, on the other hand, was relaxed, composed, practically slumped in his seat, one leg crossed over the other and ankle resting on his knee, flipping through screens on the tablet with a sure touch. A couple of buttons at the top of his dress shirt were undone, but otherwise--

He looked like he was waiting for a waitress to bring his wine, the asshole.

Tony arched his neck back and grunted at a freshly painful twinge. “If I’m going to do this, you could at least act interested,” Tony griped.

A sharp look at the god earned a sardonic eyebrow in return, but at least it was attention. “It’s not supposed to be pleasant for you, Stark,” Loki chided. “It’s not a performance; it’s a chore.” He held up the tablet. “And a list item.”

“Yeah, I know--’awkward.’” And the makings of a visual he knew would come to haunt him some future day on the battlefield. In front of Steve Rogers.

Good play, Ziggy Stardust.

Finally, the arm holding the tablet dropped to the side of the chair. At least that was progress. Loki continued, “And I’m trying to avoid ‘not going as planned,’ for my own sake. It’s been some time since I took a virgin. Or a human.” He shook his head. “Your body gripped me so tightly yesterday”--he interrupted himself with a dark chuckle--”I almost embarrassed myself.”

Well, that was something, Tony thought, re-hitching his thigh back up to stave off a threatened cramp. He’d been so stuck in his own head the day before, getting used to the sensations that actually, for a few moments, turned kind of awesome, that he hadn’t ... didn’t realize Loki may have ...

Okay, so ... A new image, of Loki behind him, gritting his teeth and barely holding on to self-control as he fucked into Tony, seconds away from shooting his load, but trying to draw it out, to make it last ... Yeah, it kind of warmed him up.

Only a bit, but Tony would take it.

It certainly offered another explanation for the finger-shaped bruises bracketing his hips, besides just Loki being a rough, sadistic bastard.

Which he still was, goddammit.

The warm, deep ache from the day before, made worse by the growing vigor of his own hand, emphasized Loki’s words. Served as a reminder. It had gone on for so long that Tony had been kind of in tears by the end. Exhausted, orgasmic, manly tears. There were some sobs. _Manly_ sobs.

Probably caught on camera.

Humiliating. Tony soured again, wondered if there would be anything salvageable about this situation when all was said and done. “Yeah, well, if it makes you feel any better, I didn’t think I had signed up for a month of being reamed with a tree trunk.” He realized too late that it was hard to sound sullen with a handful of fingers in his own ass. So it came out breathless and ... fuck.

Loki smirked, reached an arm out to set the now-hibernating tablet on the dresser. Turned back and uncrossed his legs, leaned forward. Offered a devious grin, the shithead. “I wouldn’t, as you would say, knock it until you’ve tried it,” he mock-confided. “I’ve had some truly illuminating experiences with trees.”

A surprise laugh burst out of Tony. Funny son of a bitch-- _of course_ he knew the stories humans had written down about him. Yeah, okay, Tony could play this: “Thor said you were some kind of giant, underneath your dad’s magic,” and he didn’t miss the way Loki’s eyes snapped to him, suddenly honed in and not exactly happy. “Which I certainly have first-hand evidence of.” And that did the trick, as Loki’s hackles went back down. Complimenting a guy’s dick size worked in every culture.

“Yeah, yeah--you’re huge.” Tony continued, cut off with a hiss as he got overenthusiastic in his own preparation. “And kind of brutal,” he added pissily.

“Well, then, perhaps another finger?” A casual suggestion that was anything but. “For your own comfort, of course.”

Tony groaned and reached for the lube with his free hand, pouring it liberally onto his ring finger this time, as he recoated the other reddened, glistening digits. He could only see Loki out of the corner of his eye, but he knew he was being watched. More avidly, all of a sudden. The bunched fingers pushing back in forced his eyes shut in concentration, in making himself ready, and he felt the frown lines crease his forehead.

“How does it feel?” This time the tone wasn’t humored. Even though he couldn’t see it, he knew: He suddenly, finally had Loki’s full attention. Which started to lure his own cock back to the here and now.

“Not as--” Another gasp. “Not as fun.”

“As what? I thought you said you hadn’t done this before,” and the voice was silky-soft now, focused. Curious instead of accusing. Well aware of Tony’s dick beginning to harden, to stand up under Loki’s gaze.

“I haven’t.” Tony breathed, eyes still pressed shut. “It’s not as fun as having someone else do it. Which I think you already knew.”

The next words came from above--Loki standing next to the bed now, looking down. “So, you did enjoy it yesterday, despite the discomfort?” And, yeah, another thing in common--guys, no matter where they came from, wanted to know it was good.

Tony heard movement, fingernails dragging over linen as Loki found the lube, the sound of buttons being undone, a zipper opened. “Yeah,” Tony sighed through a sharp stretch, tried to pull his legs up higher as he heard the bottle open, imagined what Loki was doing to his own body. The tears yesterday? Had made it a little better--something he wasn’t ever going to admit. “But you already knew that. Don’t get modest on me now.”

“No.” He wasn’t looking at Loki, but he could hear the sudden, softer turn of his voice. “No, I won’t.”

Tony gasped as he felt a hand fall around his ankle. Then, the god moved again, pushing a knee into the edge of the mattress, making Tony dip toward him.

The hand squeezed. “Turn over, Stark. I’m going to fuck you now.”

Yeah, his cock knew how it felt about that. Right in the here and now, baby. He rolled over, moved up on his knees, with absolutely no one having to ask twice. Presenting himself like yesterday, embarrassed like yesterday, but, unlike yesterday, better knowing what to expect. Wanting it despite that.

Wanting it despite--

Just _wanting_ it.

Tony hoped the sound of the box springs creaking muffled his fresh whimper as Loki’s weight settled behind him. He was positioned even more carefully--knees wide enough on the bed to prevent him from getting any kind of leverage, to force him to hold himself up and take it. Which was just, Tony had to admit--yeah--going to make it better. Loki's shirt tails fanned over his lower back, his ass, and he felt the rough scratch of trouser fabric against the insides of his thighs. Then he was spread with strong fingers and--oh, God, entered with a single, hot slide that ... still wasn’t smooth enough. Tony groaned.

Loki was almost hesitant at first as his stroke encountered resistance, lingering tightness that Tony had been unable to overcome. But any care was short-lived; with a frustrated growl, Loki braced Tony's hips with digging fingers and surged all the way forward.

The sound Tony made wasn’t entirely human.

God, it hurt. And it was perfect. Tony whimpered, again. He would still be reduced to this, nails clawing the sheets, eyes blurred through tears. But Loki--

Loki. “Oh, Stark,” Tony heard. It started as a sigh, changed to a tuneless, wordless moan. Loki's hands pressed into his hips again, triggering the bruises, flaring up yesterday's hurt, but ...

He sighed raggedly. Tried to shift his knees anyway. Gasped in ways that resolutely _were. not. sobs._

Then, between thought-obliterating thrusts, Tony grasped for rationality. Remembered Loki in their battles, fully armored, dignity layered over rage. Spewing taunts and jibes and threats through a voice tamped down into barely sustained evenness. Eyes mad but hands still. Always struggling to hang on to, to regain control.

Now, a new image: Loki’s form kneeling over him, shaking, the swallowed sounds the god made, the stuttering jerk of his hips, the bruises he couldn’t help but leave behind in his madness ...

In no way was he in control of this. 

Loki, despite the millennia, the wives, the fucking rocks and trees, the ... _oh_ ... As Loki’s hand moved between his legs, as Loki’s other arm pulled Tony up to seat him more firmly on that rampant--that fucking huge--cock, Tony’s battered mind grasped for two final thoughts, his own pleas--for less? or more?--threatening to drown them out.

Maybe--

Maybe this wasn’t entirely about humiliation.

And the last thought wasn’t nearly as unsettling as it should have been, but it was too late to care: 

Maybe he didn’t know Loki’s play at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, y'all! You can find me publicly hand-wringing over my writing, or fangirling over other people's, on Tumblr: <http://hannahrhen.tumblr.com/>


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